At Your Service
by OogieBoogie
Summary: Desperation is a funny thing. It makes you do things that you wouldn't even think of doing. Hermione is experiencing exactly that and will do anything to find a solution, even if it is through Draco Malfoy's, err, business. *OOC, ExistentialCrisis!Hermione?
1. Chapter 1

Aaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! After almost half a year of disappearing and having no time whatsoever to actually sit down and write due to university (it's my final semester, so you know how busy it gets), I've decided today will be the day I start writing again.

This came out of nowhere -

_More like inspired from your own life_ -

Oh shut up, traitor.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

There is nothing quite like desperation. The reasons for being in such a state vary, depending on the person. Bills, debts, jobs, family feuds or something of that ilk.

For one Hermione Granger, however, love (and the complete inability to snag a boyfriend) pushed her to the point of being at the end of her tether. It's a funny feeling, really. It feels as though you are curling into yourself - very tightly so - the strength and pull of it so strong that you feel like you are going to burst into a billion pieces, into dust. Like a supernova explosion.

Hermione experiences all of that, every day of the year, because of one thing. Love.

_Or lack thereof_, she snorts into the drink that she was currently nursing in a nice pub called Babylon, watching idly as Draco Malfoy, who comes in as often as she does (in happier spirits than Hermione, evidently), whispers into a buxom beauty's ear, and they both vacate their seats and leave.

This happens as often as Hermione mopes about (which is always, really). She is bitter all the time and she does not even need to wait for Valentine's Day to do it; to scoff at every single couple, pull an ugly face and say in an unnaturally nasal voice, "Aw, so sweet!" as though she had just sucked on a lemon and was forced to promote how not-sour it was.

Mister Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, comes in every Saturday ... _moonwalks_ in because he is that smooth, looks around and finds somebody that suits his fancy (tall, leggy, long hair, beauty queen, whatever) and swaggers towards his prey, flashes a winning smile, they talk for a bit, he makes her feel like the only woman in the world, and after three hours or less (fifteen minutes being Malfoy's record time) they leave, his hand around her waist and she looking like she'd give up everything for him.

Basically, Hermione's already memorised Malfoy's premeditated steps. And Hermione being Hermione, listed them down already.

1. Look  
2. Walk  
3. Smile  
4. Charm  
5. Leave

Malfoy goes home on a Saturday night, getting the shag of his life (or rather, giving the shag of the woman's life), while she goes home, curls up in a pitiful ball and wondering exactly how it would feel like to curl up with someone instead. And imagining what a lover's touch would feel like.

She is unable to go far, though. After all, she had only been with one guy and they had broken it off after graduating from Hogwarts. She had only kissed one guy and that was Ron Weasley. Okay, _two_. That bloke at the back of the Knight Bus - Ashley. She'd always shiver at the mere memory of it. What a fucking confusing phase in her life. And what an extremely wet kiss that was. _God._

It was getting rather difficult. It was a battle to shake off that feeling of being squeezed from the inside. She tried talking to Ron and Harry, describing to them what exactly it felt - the supernova explosion - but they just kept on asking whether it was vaginal cramps, and Hermione would roll her eyes at the fact that men would chalk it up to a woman's uterus committing suicide at the slightest discussion of _feelings_ and _I feel odd_.

The third time she tried articulating the problem to them, she gave up. Harry's blank stare and Ron's gaping mouth was answer enough that they have not the foggiest idea of what the fuck she was on about, let alone how to help her.

She needed to get rid of this feeling. But how?

* * *

There Malfoy goes again. Debonair. Stepping into the pub, dressed to drop women's panties on the spot - black turtleneck, grey trousers, expensive leather shoes and coat in hand. He does the usual eye-sweep over every single woman in the place and smiled. That smile indicated that he had found one.

Hermione snorts into her drink and shakes her head, curls bouncing.

"Why, hello, Granger."

Hermione jerks back so violently that she almost drops her drink and she looks up so fast she saw stars. Or is it the effect that he has on women?

"Malfoy?"

He sends her a variation of his winning smile, and she involuntarily swallows. And that wasn't even his smile number 27. This was probably just number 5. Hermione has _that_ listed in her head, too.

"May I sit?" he asks, nodding at the empty spot next to her (the one not occupied by her Ministry colleague who is shamelessly flirting with some bloke).

"Yes, yes, of course."

He slides onto the seat next to her, glancing at her with a cheeky smile.

"Merlin, you smell good," she blurts, and Malfoy raises both his eyebrows and flashes a dimpled smile

"Thank you."

"Can I get you something?" the bartender asks him.  
"Firewhiskey, thanks."

Malfoy turns to her then, "So how are you?"  
"Great, thanks, Malfoy. How are you?"

"I'm very well," he replies, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey, all the while studying her. "You look really stunning in that dress, Granger."  
"Really?" She peers down and took a good look at what she wore. "It's really nothing, though. It's just something I pulled on while in a rush."  
"Yeah? Looks amazing," he nods.  
"Oh, thanks, I just -"

Something clicks in Hermione, and she ends her half-finished sentence with narrowed eyes.

"Hang on a minute, why are you here?"  
"I'm in here to have a drink and to mingle."  
"No, I meant _here_ here. Next to me, talking to me here."

He smiles mysteriously and takes another sip of his drink, Hermione watching his throat work.

"Can I not come over and say hello to an old schoolmate?"

Hermione laughs and rolls her eyes, before answering sarcastically, "No, really, because we talk _so_ often."

"I see you often, but we don't talk at all."  
"I see you often, too."  
"Do you?"  
"Yes, and I know how your game works."

"Enlighten me," he breathes, as he inches closer, giving Hermione another pleasant whiff of the delicious scent that is his cologne.

"You come in, you look around, pick a victim -"  
"Now I wouldn't call them victims -" He interjects.  
"And then you jump them -" Hermione continues, ignoring him.

"They usually jump me first."  
"And then you leave. Seeing as there are not many preys oday, I'm assuming you've come here to pull one on me."  
"No, you're right. About my game. You're not right about the fact that I'm only here as a last resort or I'm trying to pull your leg or whatever. I've only come here because I've seen you in here, months upon months and each time I do you're looking breathtaking as ever. This is the only time my courage has finally chosen to aid me in striking up a conversation with you."

Hermione feels gentle flutter of something in her chest and her cheeks burn.

"Shit, you are incredibly good at this," she huffs and takes a sip of her wine.  
"Am I, now?" he chuckles. "That was a genuine compliment, by the way."

She takes a deep breath.  
"No, Malfoy. I'm not falling for it."

Malfoy studies her some more and says nothing.

"I refuse to be another victim of yours."  
"I noted with interest earlier that you classify the women I take home as victims. What do you think I do with them? Murder them, rape them? They're not victims, they're more ..." he pauses, sending her a grin that looks like a shark at a beach party, "Clients."

"Clients? How do you mean?"  
"I mean they pay me for my ... _services_."

Hermione laughs, "Services? What kind of services do they need from you? Plumbing?" She laughs even harder at her own joke. Imagine that, Malfoy saying "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, the plumber, at your cervix."

Malfoy frowns. "Well, I haven't thought of describing it that way."

Hermione freezes. "I don't think you're even talking about proper plumbing as in fixing pipes and all."  
"I'm not," he answers casually. "Is that a Muggle reference for something dirty?"

"So you ... they pay you for sex?"  
"No, no, no. I don't believe in paying for sex. What I mean is that they pay me to spend time with them, to dine with them, make them feel lovely and all nice and happy. They pay me for my time."  
"Oh ... so the women that you go up to ... they, umm, ordered you?"  
"Not all. Some I truly like and take home, but others are the ones that actually want me to be there for them."

"You're a gigolo, then. Without the sex."  
"Not all of them are older women, you know," he says glibly, "Perhaps an escort."

"Huh. Interesting," Hermione frowns and nods at the same time, conflicted.  
"It is, I get to meet all sorts of people from all walks of life. It's quite ... eye-opening."  
"I'm sure it is. Although I don't think you're in it for the money. Why are you, then?"

"I was in it for the money. And then after a while it grew on me, making these women happy. There are a lot of lonely people in this world."  
Hermione grimances, "You sound like a therapist, but an honest one."

Malfoy laughs and it sounds so musical that Hermione feels a weird need to hear it again.

"Hmm, but that's interesting though. I didn't peg you as someone who would be into escort services."  
"Didn't have a choice," he grabs his drink and finishes it, ordering another one.

"What do you mean?"

He simply shakes his head and grins at her, grasping her hand and squeezes it gently. "Enough about me, what do you do?"  
"Law Enforcer, typical me," she laughs a little giddily at the contact.

"Ah, I see. I am not surprised by that at all," he answers, "Do you want another drink?"  
"No, no thanks, Malfoy," she says, and glances at the clock on the wall, "I should be leaving soon."

Malfoy surveys her again with stormy grey eyes. Hermione stares back at him, unrelenting until she feels her eyes watering.

"What is it, Malfoy? Ask me."  
"You come in here, every Saturday waiting for something. What is it?"  
"I don't know, I'm not sure it even exists or if I'm ever going to get it at all," she said cryptically.

"Might I make a deduction?" he says, his gaze still fixed on her face.  
"Go ahead."

Whatever it is, it cannot be worse than what Ron and Harry came up with.

"You come in here every week looking like someone shot your dog, and you sip on your wine while glaring at people who are having a good time. I think you're lonely, Granger. And you want someone to take care of you, shower you with attention. You're wilting, and that can't be good."

Hermione gapes at him. That was so spot on her brain almost exploded with the impossibility of someone ever figuring it out. But then again, this was Draco Malfoy.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's been watching," she sniffs.  
"Yes, well, I study characters in my free time. It helps with the job," he grins.

Hermione sighs heavily and grabs her bag.  
"Alright, Malfoy. It was nice to meet you, and to finally talk after all these years," she stands up and turns to him, "Good night."  
"Of course. Good night, Granger."

She takes one last look at his handsome pale face, his platinum blond hair and grey eyes before smiling and waving. He is 3Bs, Blond, Beautiful and Blessed. Ugh. No wonder his business flourishes. Is it even a business? Or a hobby? She'll ask next time.

"Oh, Granger?"

She stops by the door and turns, and Malfoy is suddenly behind her, handing her a small piece of paper. As soon as she grabs it, Malfoy winks at her and turn to leave, allowing Hermione a fantastic view of his rear in his pressed trousers.

She looks at the card pressed tightly between her index finger and her thumb. At first it is a clear piece of paper, before words start to magically appear.

_****__Draco Abraxas Malfoy_  
Silver Serpent Services  
_13, Diagon Alley_  
_Great Britain_

Hermione glances up at where Malfoy was sitting, and he raises his glass at her before grinning. She rolls her eyes and leaves to the Apparition point, fuming.

How dare he insinuate that Hermione was lonely, miserable and in need of some love in her life? Well, he is right but she wouldn't even think to require escort services! Especially from him! That was why he gave her his name card, that bastard!

Draco Malfoy needed to mind his own business and ... and ... she wasn't that desperate!

* * *

It is raining.

And Hermione just had the shittiest day of her entire life. She woke up in the morning from a dream, _crying._ She couldn't, for the life of her, figure out what she dreamt about that was so bad it reduced her to tears. She left for office, and someone spilled hot coffee onto her while in the lift, she tripped and fell flat on her face in her own office, and her boss yelled at her for no apparent reason.

It was so horrible and even more so that she didn't have anyone to complain to. Nobody who would understand, anyway.

It is lunch break and she is in the ladies', wiping tears and sniffing while seated in the cubicle.

Malfoy's face appears in her mind, ephemeral. She shakes her head and immediately stops crying.

_No, no. Nonononononono._

She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Finishing up the rest of the day, with her only motivation being that she would be able to wrap herself in her covers in bed, she Apparated home.

"Oh, there you are!" Ginny rises from her couch, immediately capturing Hermione in a hug.  
"Ginny! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just came back from Romania with Dean. It was lovely, Hermione, I swear you should go ... it was amazing ... I had the most amazing time of my life."  
"Did you?" she smiled plastically. She is happy to see Ginny, of course, but she simply isn't in the mood. "That's wonderful."

"Yes, and Dean was so romantic -"  
"Would you like some tea?" Hermione says, gritting her teeth as she turns towards the kitchen.

That's all everybody talks about these days, how _happy_ they are. Damn them all.

"Yes, please, thanks! And did you know Dean -"

Hermione tunes her out, preparing her tea with extra force, banging things on purpose while Ginny prattles on about whatever.

After a full half an hour of listening to the words 'Dean' and 'romantic', Hermione slams her teacup and Ginny jumps a little.

"Sorry, Gin. I'm just ... a little off. Do you mind talking about this some other day? Maybe for lunch this weekend?"

Ginny looks at her with a strange mix of pity and understanding on her face, and Hermione almost loses it.

"That's alright with me, and maybe I'll bring Dean."  
"Sure," Hermione says flatly.

"I'll see you, 'Mione," Ginny comes around to give her a hug and manages to whisper in her ear, "You just need a boyfriend, 'Mione. You're just lonely. Loosen up."

And then, she disappears with a 'pop'.

Hermione cracks.

She grabs her coat, Disapparates and appears at a very familiar street. Walking towards a door with determination shining in her eyes, she slams it open when she gets there.

Babylon is crowded today, and she takes a while to spot that familiar striking blond hair, currently talking to a man. She marches up to him, stops right behind him.

"You," she calls.

Malfoy turns around, eyebrows raised. "Oh, Granger. Hello there. I didn't think you'd be here on a Friday - _mmph!_"

Hermione had grabbed him by the collar and smashed her lips onto his.

Malfoy drops his glass, spilling it all over the counter and watches Hermione with wide, grey eyes. His hands move to rest at the small of her back, but his eyes are still open, watching Hermione. He kisses back tentatively as Hermione makes no plan to move within the next century.

After Hermione pulls away, she looks up at him, cheeks red with embarrassment but eyes burning with fire.

"My name is Hermione Granger, and I heard of your company through a friend. I require an escort," she says fluidly, not knowing what came over her.

Malfoy blinks and mercifully catches on to whatever she is saying, smart as he is and clears his throat.

"Draco Malfoy," he grabs her hand and kisses her knuckes lightly, "At your service."

Desperation is a funny thing.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED! **

Read and review please. They be druggggggggggggs.


	2. Chapter 2

**'M' it is! I had no idea why I thought this would be T. I guess one can dream, eh? HAHA.**

* * *

So.

Twenty minutes ago this would have sounded like a splendid idea. After all, what seemed more tempting an offer than Draco Malfoy showering her with great care and attention? A flitter of images ran through Hermione's mind, of sharing an evening with someone, romantic dinner by candlelight, someone just generally paying her the attention she deserves, _god damn it._ Attention from friends was different, this was clearly something else that she _needed._

And Malfoy is so willing to give it to her. It is a win-win situation.

Now, though? Hermione is not so sure.

She has spent the last twenty minutes staring at Malfoy's (gorgeous) face, watching him watching her while she furiously sipping on her glass of wine, brain a little addled. The adrenaline has clearly ebbed away, negated by the effects of Malfoy's warm and pliant lips beneath hers during her previous spectacle.

Now, her brain decides to turn quiet, the grinding gears at a full stop. Very convenient, that is. Processing the fact that she'd just hired Malfoy and that she's now officially his client currently seems like the most laborious task in the world.

"You're about to change your mind," Malfoy comments, watching her from the top of his glass.

Hermione blinks and opens her mouth to retort but nothing comes out.

"It's not that ... I'm just not very sure all of a sudden."

"You were the epitome of surety earlier on when you barged in here and assaulted me," he grins cheekily, raising a fine eyebrow.

Feeling her cheeks redden with embarrassment, she averts her gaze and pretends to look interested in her rapidly reducing amount of red wine.

A touch of a warm hand to her left cheek has her turning to Malfoy once again. "Don't think," he says, the thumb-brushing thing he's currently employing making Hermione's eyes almost flutter shut in bliss, "Just enjoy." How long has it been since someone's touched her so tenderly? A woman can only handle so much of lonely nights and aching hearts that bordered on physical pain and the envy of other girls getting the attention that she clearly wants for herself as well. These days she seems to have a proclivity to turn down invitations for a girl's night out, deciding instead to sit by the fire in her the comfort of her home and read books that, as much as she tries to deny it, cannot afford to stand-in for something else she truly longs for. For once, she lets her gut decide, not her mind.

"Okay," she says finally.

"Okay?" Malfoy retracts his hand and Hermione immediately wants it back on her cheek.

Hermione nods. "So how does this work, then?"

"How does what work?" Malfoy questions, genuinely confused.

"This ... thing. Am I supposed to sign a contract or a letter of agreement?"

Malfoy blinks at her and then throws his head back in mirthful laughter. Hermione raises her eyebrows and takes in Malfoy's worry-free laugh, deciding that she really does like it. It makes him look younger, and even more handsome if that were possible (and legal).

"No, Granger, you don't," he shakes his head and fixes her with an amused look. "I'm not that fussy. This is how it works though; whenever you want, I'll be there. Anytime."

Anytime? Now that was dangerous. What if Hermione decides that 'anytime' was 'every time'?

No! What the hell is she thinking? She's not _desp_- she's a very busy woman.

"Just send me an owl before. I have to make sure it doesn't clash with my schedule," he winks at her and takes a sip of his drink.

"Schedule? You have arrangements with other women, then?" Hermione asks, voice a little accusatory, though she has no idea where that smarting, mysterious jealousy came from.

Malfoy seems to have caught that, and he chuckles, "Steady, woman. They're just for innocent engagements; dinners, dates, whatever. Nothing you need to worry about."

Hermione squeezes her hands. Malfoy does not need to explain himself to her, and she does not know why he just did. They're not even together and she's already kicking up a fuss. Desperate _and_ psycho? Maybe Malfoy will add that to his resume. Oh god, she's a _job_. She needs to remember that. Best not to get carried away.

"And what of payments?"

"Pay however the amount, and whenever as you please," Malfoy shrugs.

"Isn't that a little ... how am I supposed to even begin to allocate how much to pay you?"

"As I've said, I'm not that fussy, love," he says nonchalantly, the pet name making Hermione sing in the inside, "It really is up to you."

Hermione pauses and frowns. "But, Malfoy ..."

"Draco," he corrects, and sends her a seductive smile. "It's Draco from now on, Hermione." A shiver ran down Hermione's spine, and she does not know what that is all about, either. "Look, darling," he says gently, and pulls both of her hands into his, stroking them. "It's not like I have a parchment of utilities and their respective prices. I don't have a list that goes, one kiss is a hundred Galleons or sexual intercouse is a thousand and five hundred Galleons." "

I thought you don't believe in paying for sex," Hermione narrows her eyes at him.

"I know, but it was an example," he grins, "After all, I'd be willing to bend the rules a little bit, just for you."

Hermione's eyes widen a little bit and Draco does the I-throw-my-head-back-in-laughter again. "You're making fun of me," Hermione mutters.

"I am, you're really very gullible. But yes, that was a joke. I wouldn't let you pay me for sex," he pauses, "I'd do it for free."

He laughs again and Hermione withdraws her hands to sock him in the arm. Funnily enough, the smile that is threatening to break free finally erupts into full laughter. She's happy, and that sickening, dark mass of depression that had set up camp in her chest for years is forgotten as Draco teases her and touches her fleetingly. Even as Draco kisses her on the cheek abruptly and whispers that he's going off to the loo, she allows herself a face-splitting grin. She likes him - in a totally friendly way of course - and she takes a lighthearted approach to this ... arrangement. They are both taking what they want. He's in it for the money, and she's in it for the happiness.

Who says money cannot buy happiness? Evidently, they're not spending it on the right things. And damn if she's not going to get her money's worth.

There is a voice at the back of her mind - the one that disappeared when she needed it the most - forming clouds of thoughts about how weird this is, how wrong it should feel, and how this is Malfoy of all people, what would her friends say, is she going to be like this forever? But those thoughts disappear as soon as she catches movement at the corner of her eye, and it was Draco walking back towards her with the most charming of smiles.

Draco Malfoy is the term 'services rendered' in human form and she is oh-so-willing to pay.

* * *

Alright, so maybe she does not just like him in a totally friendly way. But can anyone blame her? The man is sex on legs and it is incredibly difficult to ignore. The fact that he is the only one on par with Hermione's intelligence does not help, either. She is going to enjoy every second of this ride.

Which is why she set up a dinner arrangement for the both of them tonight. It is almost unheard of in her group of friends, the woman taking the initiative to take the man out for dinner. In this case, well ... let's just say her only valid argument at this time is 'everybody is equal' or some raff like that. Anyway, that's not really important. What's important is that she's going to meet Draco for dinner tonight. And that she has no nice dress to wear.

Well, there's that dress Draco said he liked the first time they spoke to each other after years of nodding and smiling at each other from afar, but she simply cannot wear it _again_. He's going to think that she has nothing else to wear, or too poor to buy a new one. And would probably think that she's too poor to pay him, and break off the deal! Oh, God, no.

She owls Ginny, asking her to come over and choose a dress for her. When Ginny arrives, she's not alone. Harry and Ron came with, as if they cannot believe that Hermione is finally fussing over a dress, and that could only mean that she's going out on a date.

"Who is he, 'Mione?" Ron asks, "Someone we know?"

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione says as she grabs two dresses and hands them to Ginny. Ginny doesn't react and the dresses fall to the floor and brushes Hermione's ankles as she begins to walk away. This catches Hermione's attention and she turns, finding the three of them staring at her with their mouths hanging wide open. "

What's the matter?" she asks, smiling inwardly.

"Draco Malfoy, 'Mione? Draco Malfoy?" Ron bellows, "Please tell me it's joke. She's joking, right? Harry?"

Harry is staring at Hermione and after a while, smiles, "Have fun, old girl."

"Well, thank you, Harry," she says, "I knew you were going to be the mature one."

Ginny immediately blinks and picks up the dresses, examining them both closely. Ron, of course, does not catch the jibe and continues shouting, "DRACO MALFOY! DRACO MALFOY! Are you mental? Is there nobody else out there? What's he doing, now? I haven't seen him 'round, where does he live?"

"Ron, if you're so interested, why don't you go out on a date with him?" Hermione rolls her eyes and tries on the dress Ginny chooses.

Ron blanches and turns positively purple.

"Look, I'm searching for happiness. And if Draco Malfoy is to be the one who gives it to me, so be it. Are you against my happiness?"

All of them shake their heads simultaneously.

"Thank you."

* * *

"_Mmnh_," Hermione moans into Draco's mouth. Heart thundering in her chest, she grabs a fistful of Draco's coat as she is pushed up against the wall of her flat. Draco attacks her lips with his, and she struggles to stand up straight as he presses his entire body length against hers. It feels nice, to be pinned down and kissed to within an inch of your life.

Hermione's mental faculties, however, is having difficulty catching up with this moment, and she suspects she's left them at the restaurant earlier.

Ah yes, the restaurant. It was a nice, cozy thing and she'd be lying if she said she didn't have a good time. She doesn't remember a time where she had so much fun in one night. And somehow, inexpicably, it involved Draco Malfoy. She'd shown up, in a black dress and red lips, to find Draco already waiting for her at the entrance of The Tavern. The sight before her completely stole her breath, and in that moment, Hermione admitted that Draco Malfoy is the most beautiful thing she had ever beheld. It is one thing to dress up like an elite escort, and it is another thing to dress up like Draco Malfoy. He was clad in an all-black ensemble, black coat, shirt, vest, shoes - black from head to toe and it only made his pale skin and pale hair stand out. "

Hello, beautiful," Draco'd whispered almost breathlessly as he surveyed her, "You look breathtaking, and it seems that we're both matched."

She'd laughed almost as breathlessly at the compliment, and the decibel of her giggle threatened to go higher as he leans down and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek. The sight before her completely steals her breath, and in that moment, Hermione admits that Draco Malfoy is the most beautiful thing she has ever beheld.

Hermione's heart thunders in her chest as he offered her his arm to take, and she did so obligingly. They walked into the restaurant, her fingers clutching Draco's expensive coat tightly out of nervousness.

The same coat that she is currently grasping as well, torn between wanting to hang on to it for dear life and taking it off. In restrospect, she has no idea how it came to this. One second they were enjoying a lovely dinner, during which Draco actually fed her once or twice, they'd shared dessert, and they talked for the most of it. She'd never been so taken with anyone before, and she was surprised to find Draco was the one she'd be sort-of besotted with. He was completely charming, the bastard. Obviously, it was his job to charm the panties off women but she'd never suspect it would take him just dinner - dinner that he paid for, much to Hermione's surprise. She'd frowned at him, confused. He answered with a wink and said, "If you insist, I'll add it to your payment." and then he'd changed the topic.

Draco winks a lot. He also kisses like he is trying to kill them with his kisses. Hermione would happily die.

His coat is off, _yes!_ Now it's just the rest of them ...

But it's getting kind of hard to concentrate as Draco shifts his attention from her mouth to her pulse and he is kissing her jaw, her collarbone and - and - huh. If she could just control her hands and manoeuvre them ...

"Bedroom," she gasps out.

Well, that wasn't what she was aiming for.

Nevertheless, Draco breaks free and takes a deep breath, slamming his hands against the wall next to her head.

"Yeah, yeah, that is a very fantastic idea," he says a little breathlessly. He laces his fingers with hers and murmurs, "Lead the way, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiles, face red as a lobster, she imagines, and walks them to her (thankfully clean) bedroom. Draco only looks around for a moment with an impressed sort of expression before turning her around gently by the shoulders and doing that kissing-you-till-you-die thing. No protests whatsoever from Hermione, he begins to walk her backwards and they both fall onto her bed in a flurry of urgent kisses and content hums. His devious hand manages to unzip the back of her dress and Hermione shoulders it off to aid him. She begins to unbutton his shirt (his tie got lost somewhere in their little scuffle in the hallway), and almost cannot believe where she is right now.

Well, she is _under_ Draco Malfoy, sexiness incarnate and she's about to have sex with him. It's funny how they initially came here for tea, and then _bam!_ they're about to have sex.

Sex.

Hermione's eyes snap open. No no no no no no. This isn't right. She can't sleep with Draco, she can't believe she's doing this to him! He's already said he doesn't have sex with clients and now -

"No, no ..." she murmurs in between kisses from Draco. Draco pulls back a little and catches her eyes.

"No?"

"No ... sex," she says breathlessly. God, she wants it. She wants it so bad. A part of her hates herself for being so weak, so willing. She wants Draco Malfoy like nothing else she had ever wanted before. All those years of lying in bed alone, wishing a man would magically appear between thighs suddenly has a face, and it is Draco's. Holy fucking shit. Could all these years of longing turn her into a puddle of writhing, wanting mess at the slighest touch of Draco Malfoy's finger? The answer is yes, yes, yes, yes ad infinitum.

"Yes, yes, yes," she blurts.

"Yes?"

"Yes ..." she says pathetically, lost in Draco's stormy eyes, almost black with the grey lining it at the outer edges. Draco says nothing, just leans down to capture her lips in a kiss again as his fingers skim through her legs, going up ... up ... up -

"No!"

Draco stops. She can't go through with this. She doesn't want him to sleep with her as a _client_, for fuck's sake.

"No sex," she whispers.

Draco pulls his head back and watches her. "No sex?" he echoes.

"No," she shakes her head and smiles sadly at him, stroking his cheek.

There is a pregnant silence and the tension is so thick you could hit it with a brick.

"Okay," Draco says slowly, "What do you want to do?"

Hermione blinks. Isn't he going to leave? Men who get rejected like that usually just gather their things and leave, don't they?

"We could err, talk?" she suggests, watching Draco for any signs of ... well, she doesn't know what exactly it is she is looking for ...

"Talk?" he repeats.

"And ... cuddle?" she adds with a wry smile, preparing for the very worst. Why would a man stay for cuddles and conversation after being denied sex?

This is Draco Malfoy - debonair by day and superhero Sex Man by night, or something of that variety. He could have anything and anyone he wants, and why would he, of all people, stay to talk and _spoon_? Oh, excellent job, Hermione Granger -

Draco moves to sit at the edge of the bed. Oh, look, there he goes! He's going to leave now -

"You don't happen to have any wine in the kitchen, do you?" he asks. Oh, Merlin. The rejection is so bad he's going to seek alcohol.

"Yes, I do ... but ..." she answers, fixing her dress.

"Right," he stands up and in a few steps, exits the room. Hermione stares at the doorway, not exactly knowing what to think. Shit. What now?

She hears a gentle footsteps pad closer and closer to the room, and Draco re-enters, two wine glasses and a wine bottle in each hand, a lopsided grin plastered on his face.

"I figured if you wanted to talk we could at least have some wine," he says as he motions for Hermione to scoot over and make room for him to lie down next to her.

Hermione immediately gathered her wits, she goes for a teasing tone, "Why, Draco Malfoy, wine and conversation?"

Draco turns to her and smiles, "Two of the best combinations in the world."

"I agree."

Draco Malfoy is her most favourite person. And not just because she's paying him to be that.

* * *

Hermione is fussing over breakfast the next morning, trying hard not to burn the eggs as she thinks about Draco who is snoozing in her bed.

She smiles to herself. They'd spent the night talking and laughing and exchanging stories and it was the greatest night of her life. Draco walks into the kitchen, looking presentable and dashing as always, snapping Hermione out of her reverie.

"Good morning," she greets, motioning for Draco to sit.

"Morning," he answers and marches up to Hermione to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, that envelope is for you," she points at the envelope that is placed next to his plate of bacon and toast.

"What is it?" he sits down and makes a grab for it, ripping it open.

"For last night," she answers promptly, attending to the eggs.

She doesn't turn, but she only hears Draco say in a small, faraway voice, "Oh."

After placing the eggs onto his plate and hers, she takes a seat opposite him. He looks a little lost, confused and in a daze.

Cold, detached.

"Everything alright?" Hermione asks, squeezing his hand. Immediately, his cold exterior shifts into a warm smile and he answers, "Yeah."

* * *

** TO BE CONTINUED!**

Reviewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, you no review, me be saddddddddddddddddd.

P/S I implore you to forgive me should you find any mistakes/errors - I did give it a once-over before I posted it up, but then again I'm prone to mistakes from time to time haha, and I don't have anyone doing the proofreading so, oops! Hope you enjoyed this one, though!


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